


Make-Out Ridge is Totally a Thing

by literarytonguetied



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Car Sex, M/M, awkward boys being dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literarytonguetied/pseuds/literarytonguetied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Awesome." John grasps at the collar of Dave’s shirt and pulls him closer, smashing their lips together.</p><p>This is an incredibly stupid move.</p><p>Dave rears back almost immediately, pressing at his mouth. “Oh my god I think my lip is bleeding."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make-Out Ridge is Totally a Thing

"Dave," the skyline of the city really is a grand one. It always seems so played up in movies, but it shines something brilliantly, a beautiful juxtaposition against the stars of the sky. “Dave, did you actually take me to Make-out ridge?"

"Holy shit is it actually called that? I thought this was the hotspot for all the stoners. I have a mad bag of dagga just waitin’ to be rolled, and this is some dank ass shit, none of that pansy-ass shit. Hope to god you don’t green out on me because this stuff will fuck you up." Dave still has his hands on the steering wheel, even though the car has been stopped for a good ten minutes. He keeps staring out the windshield as his mouth keeps running and running. 

John makes a face, “You don’t really have drugs, do you?" There’s a brief pause, “You know I’m asthmatic, right?" 

He can’t help the laugh that he barks out, or how he accidentally honks the horn because of it, which makes both he and John jump. “No, I don’t actually have drugs, doofus. It’s like you forgot that the last time you had an asthma attack I was the one hauling your wheezing ass to the nurse’s office, like fuck I would bring something to smoke. If we were going to do drugs, it would definitely be asthmatic friendly, like heroine or something. Or crack. No smoke inhalation or anything, all because I care." 

"Dude, shut up." 

"No way, man, this shit is about to get straight up Stephenie Meyer in this bitch. You are my drug, John. My personal brand of heroine." Dave finally looks over at John, and while is crooked smile is strained, it’s still there. “How was that for romance? Sparkly vampires and or ridiculously huge and hairy werewolves ain’t got shit on me."

John gives a wry twist of the mouth, “You are so right, nothing could ever compare to your suave moves. Catch me, I’m swooning." He leans over the console, “So, just so I have this straight, you bring me up to Make-Out Ridge to talk about the pros of heroine versus anything with smoke inhalation for an asthmatic and how Twilight is actual garbage. That’s it? Really?" 

"I had a few other ideas but I thought it was better to set the mood, first." 

"With sparkly vampires?"

"Is there anything better?" 

"I dunno, maybe a little making out, you dork." John’s fingers are reaching out for the wheel, ghosting over Dave’s.

"See, yeah, no, being compared to a whale penis is a definite boner kill."

"Oh my actual fuck just kiss me." 

"Alright, alright, jesus, excuse me for being exhausted from a long fucking car ride and trying to make it look like I wasn’t fucking lost in all those stupid mountain roads. Why don’t they just blast through them, for real snakes are cool and all but I don’t think we should model our roadways after them. That shit is ridiculous, and it’s not like those pathetic little guardrails are going to do anything but make the stupid fucking car flip over unless you’re in one of those super small smart cars with only two seats and no air conditioning. But flipping over might actually be better than owning those because for fuck’s sake, those things sound like shit and like hell I’m even going to contemplate owning a car that doesn’t have an air conditioner, especially in Texas. Weather that hot makes air conditioning a god damn necessity because I ain’t dealing with swimming in my own sweat in my own car for any amount of time no fucking thank you."

John just looks at him.

"Are you done?" 

"Yeah." 

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Can we make out, now?"

"Yeah."

"Awesome." John grasps at the collar of Dave’s shirt and pulls him closer, smashing their lips together. 

This is an incredibly stupid move.

Dave rears back almost immediately, pressing at his mouth. “Oh my god I think my lip is bleeding."

"Well if you would have stopped talking for five fucking seconds I wouldn’t have had to go all desperado on you."

"That is no excuse for the lacerations your gargantuan teeth have caused me. Not only are you paying for my hospital bill, but for the therapy I will undoubtedly need if I am to ever kiss again. This is why I have trust issues, John." 

John throws his hands up in defeat, “You are such a drama queen! You bring me up here and now all I want is some steamy make outs and a fun game of Where’d the Pickle Go but no you have to go on about mountain passes and smart cars and your delicate baby skin."

"I am proud of this shit, you have no idea the lengths I go to to keep my skin this flawless."

"Dave, I have seen you get ready in the morning; I know the process. Now can you please stop being a whiny little baby and kiss me?"

Dave leans toward him, lip slightly swollen but no worse for wear, and murmurs, “Christ, you’re so needy," because he is the king of how to talk sensually in a romantic situation, and they kiss. 

Slowly at first, building speed and volume, closed mouths lead to nibbled lips and questioning tongues and moans that they can taste on each other. 

Dave pulls some contortionist act over the console and moves to straddle John, pressing down the lever to release the back of the chair.

They fall really fucking quickly and bump foreheads, their glasses clicking and digging in painfully to their faces. 

"Oh my god are you fucking kidding me?" Dave sits up the best he can, his wait settled squarely on John’s thighs as he rubs his forehead and the bridge of his nose and altogether removes his shades and places them on the dash. 

John groans in tandem, covering his face with his hands and rubbing at the slowly growing red spot in the middle of his forehead. 

"This is so dumb," he murmurs, peeking up at Dave from between his fingers.

"It’ll be hot if we can just get going." 

"Or one of us will end up dead."

"Don’t be a douche bag."

"I’m being a realist, you’re the douche bag."

"I got us all the way up he we are going to have some fucking hot as hell car sex complete with the god damn fogged up windows and an unfortunate police officer peering in."

"Oh my god dude no I do not have a voyeurism kink no fucking thanks I am never going to get my dick up ever." 

"Come on," Dave grinds against him, hips clashing against hips, rutting in all the right places, “I believe in you John. I brought lube and everything we are doing this-"

"Don’t you fucking dare."

"-we are making this happen."

"I hate you so much." 

Dave ruts against him again and John’s breath hitches, “No you don’t." 

"You’ve caught me, take me away, officer."

Dave leans down to bite gently at John’s neck, “Car sex is difficult enough we can role play some other time." 

"Oh my god." It doesn’t stop John from running his hands up Dave’s back, into his hair as Dave ravages his neck. Pulling and pressing and teeth and tongue. John lifts his feet up to the dash, using it as leverage to roll his hips against Dave’s.

The forced pause Dave has is incredibly satisfying. 

So John does it again.

And again.

And again.

Adding kisses and bites and no lack of butt groping until both of them are hard in their jeans and want whispers in every pant. 

Dave leans back, awkwardly slouched over from the roof of the car, and the obvious bulges in both their pants are so fucking pronounced they’re almost touching. 

"Shit," John breathes as Dave fumbles with both of their flies. He shoves his off first, bringing them below his knees so he can spread them enough, and then pulling down John’s pants, pressing against John’s hip bones as he rolls his hips to help Dave remove his pants.

Dave reaches behind him to retrieve the lube and the condoms he had stashed in the glove compartment, ignoring the guffaw John shoots his way.

"Preparation is key, yo." 

John laughs at him again for using ‘yo’. 

The laugh quickly dies as Dave prepares himself, face scrunched up as he works his fingers into himself, bliss relaxing his features when he finds what he was looking for.

John jacks him to keep him from flagging, and it has Dave rocking into John’s hand and back into his fingers.

"Come on," John doesn’t realize he said it, but it brings Dave’s attention away from the white building at the corner of his eyes and back to how fucking hard John’s dick is.

He lubes him up, slips the condom on with a practice hand that forces a shuddery breath out of John. Dave positions himself and shit he’s bent so awkwardly but John can still see the way his stomach muscles clench as he lowers himself onto John’s dick.

John bucks up just enough to make Dave’s breath stutter, to make him bite his lip and breathe in a way that brings out his collar bones. John leans up enough to bite at them, gripping Dave’s hips as they grind together in the confines of Dave’s shit car. 

Dave moans loudly. John thrusts harder in response. 

They slide against the seat and John still has his legs up against the dash, knees boxing Dave in and forcing him to grab onto the ohshit handle and the door and John’s shoulders and hair and fuck fuck fuck their pants are loud in the car and the moans reverberate and the car rocks enough to make it look like it’s on hydraulics. 

It’s a mantra and a prayer and holy shit it’s so uncomfortable bent up like they are but it’s so so good the way the car creaks and their moans are amplified within the confined space. The windows fog and Dave runs a hand down the window as he attempts to arch back, only to end up hitting his head on the roof of the car.

"Ow, shit, fuck me," 

"I am working on it, jesus." 

Dave kisses him quiet and John fucks him loud, always going and moving and stroking and pulling and god all they want to do is stretch out languidly and make it last. But there’s a desperation that permeates the car, that makes them rush with unknown need; there’s a constant non-threat of someone finding them up here, despite that no one will, that someone will know if they take too long. 

John comes with a cry and jacks Dave until he’s sobbing for breath. 

They can’t see out the windows, and John laughs at the streak that Dave left. 

"You are that Rose chick from Titanic."

"Oh my god can we not talk about a chick with the same name as my sister right after sex." 

"My heart will go on." 

Dave attempts to pull his pants back up as he rolls over the console and back into the driver’s seat. “No, fuck you, there will be no shitty Celine Dion covers in my car. That shit will stink for weeks."

"Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feeeeeeel you, that is how I know you’ll go ooooooon." 

"You are such a dick sucking cunt munch."

"Aw, love you, too. Now turn on your de-foggers and lets get the hell out of here, I’m fucking starving."


End file.
